


Pink Sky

by BronzeLetter



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronzeLetter/pseuds/BronzeLetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Ragnar brings back a treasure from a raid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This is my very first “Vikings” piece, though I am no stranger to the fanfiction or the smut world. I only just recently got into this show, but can I just say, Ragnar, you sexy bastard, yes please! This baby takes place before Ragnar and Lagertha were an “item.” This story is pretty condensed, as I wrote and edited it in two days and it’s not my best work, but I needed to get it out and d’awwww a romantic end. Enjoy. Also, this has been posted to Fanfiction.net, under the same username. I also have other original fictions posted elsewhere. There may be a sequel to this at some point.

Pink Sky

Ragnar was sick of the rain that never seemed to stop weeping from the clouds. He was soaked to the bone. The air smelled strongly of salt and nothing else as one day bled into the next. The new plaiting of his hair was driving him to the point of madness as it tickled the back of his head and the shaven sides itched as the stubble grew in.

It was dusk after days of travel when finally, at last, a tall dark-haired man had shouted “land!” The 30-man vessel at the front of the group broke out in loud cheers and Rollo, Ragnar’s elder brother, clapped him roughly on the back.

* * * *

The worn wooden planks of the door broke almost effortlessly under Ragnar’s boot as he kicked in the door of a very small, shabby home near the outside edge of the village they were presently raiding. He doubted very much that there was anything of value inside beyond a small amount of food he may be able to collect for himself, but he reasoned that he may as well scope it out. The more experienced men had gathered the items of real worth already. The mid-day light filtered into the single room and Ragnar stood still as his eyes adjusted to the lower light. He observed a recently extinguished fire in the center of the dwelling, along with an area that was clearly designated for preparing food, as well as a space for sleeping. Moving toward the hearth, he grasped a partial loaf of bread that sat there, on a small wooden serving dish. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he was shoved from behind, grunting and nearly losing his balance. The bread hit his boot and bounced onto the floor.

From behind him, a young woman rushed forward, grabbing the dust-covered loaf and tucking it under her arm. She turned and faced Ragnar, head down, staring at him as she backed away. Her hair was dark and wild and she was young, maybe his own age. Smudges of grime, contrasting starkly against her pale skin, made her blue-green eyes pop, despite the grainy light. They reminded him instantly of the color of the water of the warm springs that formed in pools on the mountain side near his home. Her dress was a faded green and looked very worn-out. It was obvious that she was of very low status.

The tension was so thick it almost made Ragnar feel vulnerable. The young woman glared at him, but Ragnar was simply curious now, no longer interested in the food she might posses. She was delicate-looking and her feet were naked and grimy. Approaching footsteps jerked him roughly from his distracted state.

“Brother,” a familiar voice spoke, close behind. Rollo entered through the broken door, kicking a loose plank to the side. Ragnar saw the girl cringe. “Ah,” the elder man gripped Ragnar’s shoulder tightly. “I see you found a treasure in this shithole.” He could hear the smile in his voice. “Take her, then.”

The blonde turned to face Rollo, and a thick piece of rope was placed in his hands.

“Tie her up, and bring her. We’re going soon, before dusk.” With that, the dark-haired man was gone, dust following in a thin trail behind him as he walked briskly away. Thinking it was best to comply, the young Northman moved towards his find and she pressed herself as flat as possible to the wall. She looked very frightened, and Ragnar supposed he couldn’t blame her. He tied up her hands snugly and without a word. The bread dropped to the floor and silent tears began slipping down her smooth cheeks. Tugging her from the poor little house, he led her towards the shore. She didn’t struggle, but he could hear her footsteps, hesitant and heavy behind him against the bare, dry dirt of the ground, and an occasional sniffle.

* * * *

The journey home was more of the same soul-saturating rains. Ragnar scowled at the sky.

“Thor’s might, why does it rain so?” he cursed under his breath. “If I must be confined with this lousy lot for days, at least let me be dry. Fuck.” He grumbled, his back aching as he rowed the crimson-sailed vessel in time with his brothers. The only thing that kept him sane, as his plaited hair dripped down the back of his neck in a way that made him want to tear the offending thing from his own scalp, was the woman he had taken for his own, along with the chatter of the other men, talking of their children or of teenaged trysts their wives knew nothing of. Ragnar did not offer input, and instead kept silent. The girl stayed huddled with a few others that had been collected at the village for the entirety of the trip, but he couldn’t help but wonder about her. Why was she alone in that house? Why did she not fight him? Why did he find her so attractive? She did not look again at him until he tugged her by the rope around her wrists to his home he shared with Rollo.

It was raining in the village too when they finally, blessedly arrived in afternoon, and Ragnar wanted to scream. The air was chilly for springtime and it made him cranky. He felt guilty though, as the woman he led seemed to have trouble keeping up with his brisk pace.

Rollo was nowhere to be found when Ragnar and the young woman entered the modest home. He had probably gone to the hall to drink and eat and fulfill his lust with the rest of the men as they celebrated a successful raid. Ragnar had no interest in festivities at the moment and after collecting a bit of meat for himself and his captive, exited the crowded and noisy party. They ate as they walked, the young woman tearing into the dried and seasoned meat ferociously. Immediately, he gently pushed the girl to a rear corner, out of the way and sparked a large fire in the center pit. Without hesitation, he stripped himself nude and stood before the flames, letting the warmth chase away the bite of dampness from his bones. His lower back throbbed from constant rowing and his damned hair was itchy and wet against his skin. Unashamed of his nakedness, he turned to the girl then, and approached slowly. She cowered only slightly and held her bound hands out in front of her, as if it would keep him away. Ragnar didn’t bother to speak to her. He knew she wouldn’t understand his language. Instead, he untied her hands, working the knot out with his fingers. She let them drop to her sides, but didn’t move beyond that. With minimal effort, he tugged her dress from her body, and it pooled around her ankles. He didn’t refrain from letting his eyes drift down over her exposed skin. She was perfectly soft and pale and smooth had round, full breasts with hardened nipples and soft-looking hips. Her waist narrowed in a way that Ragnar found very appealing. He didn’t bother attempting to hide his arousal as he grasped her shoulders and steered her towards the fire. Releasing her when she was a comfortable distance away, he rested on his back on the pile of furs adjacent to her, watching as her eyes slipped shut and she seemed to thoroughly enjoy the warmth. Reaching up, she pushed her long, damp locks behind her shoulders and smiled a little. Turning, Ragnar was treated to a clear view of her moon-pale backside and creamy thighs and he nearly growled in the back of his throat. It came out as more of a purr. She cast her eyes his way, and simply gazed at him.

After a few moments, the blonde man let his eyes slip shut, and he spread his legs a little, making his aching body more comfortable amongst the furs. His arousal abated as he felt his body begin to relax and the tension in his lower back begin to unwind. Only when he heard a light shuffling near his place of rest did he reopen his sleepy eyes. The young woman was standing near him. Quietly, she pointed at her upper chest and spoke in a quiet voice.

“Cecily.”

“Cecily?” Ragnar repeated, propping his body up on his elbows. The young woman nodded.

“Cecily,” She repeated. She reached out and touched her index finger to Ragnar’s chest. The touch was soft and it made him tingle.

“Ragnar,” he stated bluntly. She looked at him inquisitively. “Ragnar,” he repeated.

“Ragnar.” He smiled, flashing his neat, white teeth. Returning the grin, she twisted slightly on her feet, blowing out a small puff of air and hugging her arms to her chest. Ragnar felt his stomach flutter. He took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage, and picked his body up, moving further from the edge of the bed. He placed his palm on the space beside him and looked at her intensely. The young woman looked from his face, to his hand, and back again. The smile faded from her face.

“I will not make advances,” he spoke. Her expression was blank. Ragnar groaned, frustrated with their language barrier. He forced a smile so she wouldn’t think he was angry, but her expression was unchanged. Patting the furs next to him, he hoped she would accept his offer. Hesitantly, and at a snail’s pace, she came to rest on her backside on the soft bedding. A smile instantly brightened her entire face. She skimmed her palm along the soft fur and looked at Ragnar with a look of pure appreciation.

The dark-haired girl, Cecily, said something softly, looking at him. A little smile played at her lips. She touched her fingers to her chest. All Ragnar could do was return the smile. He broke their shared gaze after a few seconds to lean back into the softness that surrounded him. He relaxed and let his eyes close. The only sound in the small home was the crackle of the fire in the center of the room, and Cecily’s soft breathing. It was calming, and he was exhausted, and sleep began to drag him down almost immediately. He welcomed it with open arms.

* * * *

Sometime in the night, Ragnar awoke. The fire had died down and only a few orange embers glowed in the shallow pit. There was a stream of moonlight coming from the cracks around the door and with the small amount of light it provided, he could see Cecily, curled up on the furs with her back to him, sleeping peacefully. Ragnar was always quite warm when he slept, and until the ground was white he did not usually sleep with a cover, but when he reached over and brushed his rough fingertips against the sleeping figure’s arm, it was cool. He sat up, the movement making her stir lightly, but not wake, as he grasped a pelt folded by his feet. Gently, he placed it over her small form. Carefully, he pushed a hank of russet waves from Cecily’s face and nearly yelped when a hand emerged from under the cover and grasped his own.

“Ragnar,” Cecily breathed. Ragnar’s belly fluttered. Her eyes remained closed. She pressed a soft kiss to his fingertips, and he supposed it was in thanks. Releasing him, she tucked her hand back under the warmth of the fur and nuzzled the bundle that supported her head. Ragnar smiled, stroking her hair again and lay back down. Cecily hummed as the blonde scooted his body closer to hers, not quite touching, and continued to brush his fingers through her hair. She spoke softly words Ragnar didn’t understand, but she talked anyway. Her voice was liquid, smooth and effortless, like the clear, ice-cold water slipping over the rocks in the small stream nearby. For a few minutes, she continued, before her voice broke and she sounded as if tears were slipping from her eyes. Ragnar grasped her shoulder and turned her over, to face him. He dragged a thumb across her cheek, but it was dry. Cecily released a small rush of air. It hit him on the throat.

The young woman resumed her soft words, and they surrounded Ragnar like a balmy, sun-rich day. Her voice had picked up, sounding stronger, and when her hands reached out to cup his face, he was surprised, and completely captivated by her. Still at a loss about what she spoke, her tone and they way she was looking at him despite the low light had his total attention. He did hear his name amongst her words, and as she said it, one hand slid down the side of his neck. Without hesitation, he cut her voice off with his own lips, pressed to hers. Ragnar kissed her fiercely, seizing her body and pulling her flush to his own. His mind buzzed pleasantly as he felt Cecily’s lips move against his, and her leg slipped over and rested across his muscular thigh. He reached down, gripping the soft flesh.

Cecily’s lithe fingers worked at the plaiting on his scalp as they kissed languidly. Her fingers pushed through his hair once it was loose, drawing a soft groan from Ragnar. He gasped when those fingers suddenly tugged sharply. Cecily caught his bottom lip between her teeth and sunk in almost enough to draw blood. The pain made him moan loudly and he shoved her thigh from his body and wrestled the young woman to her back, pinning her to the furs underneath her with his hips and his hands covering hers, above her head. She released a soft grunt, followed by a whimper that sent a jolt of lightening straight to his cock. Attaching his mouth to her soft neck, he suckled there, hard enough to create an angry mark, and tomorrow, most likely a bruise. The soft noises were flowing from Cecily’s lips now as Ragnar ground his hips into hers, his throbbing cock damp and solid against the soft skin of her hip. She wrapped her legs wrapped around his firm waist and pressed against him.

“Cecily…” Ragnar spoke, voice low and heavy with lust. He slid down her body and nuzzled his face between her soft breasts, letting his warm breath, coming in soft pants, hit her skin. He pink nipples hardened under his touch, and he pulled one into his mouth, sucking it softly and rubbing the flat of his tongue over it again and again. Cecily gripped the sides of his head firmly and filled his ears with the sounds of her pleasure, unceasing now. She squirmed against him, digging her heels into his firm backside. He grunted, sounding almost winded, and reached down, sliding his fingers between the young woman’s thighs. She sighed as his fingers touched her soft folds, finding them heated and slick. Murmuring soft words Ragnar did not understand, she tugged gently on his rough beard and pulled him up to press and open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Her tongue brushed along his, and he responded in kind. Ragnar used his hand to guide himself to Cecily’s entrance and rubbed his cock along her wet opening. She whimpered, but it died in her throat as Ragnar’s loose hair fell to the side, tickling her face and getting caught in her mouth as she laughed. Resting his weight on her body, he used his free hand to apply light pressure to the front of Cecily’s neck, squeezing gently. At the same moment, he pushed inside her body.

Cecily’s eyes flew open wide and she managed a sharp gasp, hands fisting in the furs around her head as Ragnar buried himself completely inside her, grunting at the tightness and propping himself up over her body. He remained still for just a moment until Cecily focused her gaze on his face, lips parted and breathing quick. Ragnar left his other hand at the woman’s throat as he began a slow pace, sliding almost completely away from her before plunging back in. She released a soft, breathy noise with each one of his thrusts, and they spurred him on. Ragnar focused on her pink cheeks and her pert breasts as they rose and fell with her breathing. Sweat began to slide in droplets between his shoulder blades and broke out over his forehead. A single drop fell from the tip of his nose and splashed onto her soft belly and she gasped. She said something, and it sounded urgent to Ragnar. He ceased his movements, resting whilst fully hidden within her. Cecily reached, grasping his thighs and scraping her nails over the flexed muscles there and Ragnar understood completely. He removed his hand from her throat and wrapped his thick arms around her shoulders, hiding his face in her neck. She whined softly at the angle change, and when she spoke in his ear, he slid from her, only to slam back in with all his might. Cecily very nearly screamed, dragging her fingers up his sweat-slicked back.

Ragnar groaned as he felt her squeeze around him. Withdrawing, he moved back into her with full force again, and again. He sunk his teeth into the red mark he had made earlier where her neck met her shoulder and moved his body roughly against hers. It took him a moment to realized that she was now speaking in his ear again, and though he could not understand the stream of words, he knew they were impassioned and it magnified the desire that pooled hotly in his belly. One petite hand gripped his thigh, fingernails like slivers of hot metal in his skin, the other knotted into his hair, the firm hold offering a sweet pain to add to the intense pleasure of Cecily’s velvet flesh that surrounded him. The sounds of his hips against the backs of Cecily’s pale thighs, his grunts and groans, and the whimpers and words that flowed from her mouth were the only sounds that filled the tiny home and it was making Ragnar buzz from head to toe.

Cecily’s arousal was so great that it now coated the inside of her thighs and the front of his body and made soft, wet noises as he slid from and pushed roughly back into her. Ragnar captured her soft lips with his own mouth and kissed her hard, nipping at her tongue and corners of her mouth. Another sharp yank on his blonde strands pulled his mouth from hers and Cecily looked into his icy blue eyes. Her soft walls gripped him like a vice and he issued forth a strangled moan, eyes slipping shut momentarily. He reopened when Cecily’s back arched, pressing her breasts firmly to his chest. Her head was tossed back and the grip she held on his hair had slackened. Cecily’s breath stuck, before she whimpered, biting her lip. Ragnar moaned, long and low, his brow furrowed as she fluttered around his hard cock, coating it in an obvious rush of wetness. It made him tingle and he felt himself nearing the edge of his own release.

“Ragnar,” she breathed, touching his cheek softly. He sighed, leaning into her hand as he continued to move, though a bit slower now. “Ragnar,” she said more firmly, and gripped his throat tightly enough to make his breath rasp in his throat. His release hit him hard, drawing the whine of a wounded animal from him as he pressed into her as deep as possible and throbbed his essence into her soft body. Cecily’s hand dropped to press against his chest and he rode out the waves of pleasure, head falling forward and losing track of all thought.

Cecily’s hurried breathing brought him back to earth as focus returned to his mind. Gently, he laid his form over hers and kissed the side of her face wetly, still hidden inside her folds. Cecily let her legs fall to the bed and she stroked her fingers against the skin of Ragnar’s muscular back. When their breathing had returned to normal and the sweat that covered Ragnar’s body was mostly dry, he rolled from her and onto his side. Cecily reached up and pushed a few stray pieces of mussed hair that had gotten caught in the man’s beard behind his head and immediately tucked into his arms. Ragnar cradled the beautiful woman in his arms and sighed, sleep pulling at the corners of his consciousness once again. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of Cecily’s head and let sleep claim him.

* * * *

When Ragnar awoke, the spot next to him on the bed was empty. Frowning as he stretched his sleep-stiffened limbs, he pushed his naked body from the bed. The soft light of very early morning peeked through the gaps around the door to the home, which did not hold another being besides his own. He moved to the doorway, and pushed open the dried wood. He squinted at the contrast of light, and once adjusted, he smiled. Cecily was bent near the small stream that ran right past the house, bathing herself with the water she cupped in her hands. She noticed him immediately and smiled over her shoulder at him. Ragnar crossed the short distance quickly and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. She griped his forearm lightly, leaning against his much larger form. They stood still and watched the sky for a few minutes as the sun rose.

“So pink,” Ragnar spoke into her hair as the horizon took on a bright petal color.

“So…pink,” Cecily repeated quietly. Ragnar smiled against her cheek. He took her by the wrist and made a sweeping gesture with her open palm.

“Sky,” he said. Cecily stepped away from his arms and turned, looking at his face, head titled lightly to one side. He gestured to the area above them and said again,“Sky.”

“…sk…sky,” Cecily tried, pointing up to the heavens. Ragnar smiled and nodded. They she pointed at the sunrise unfolding in front of them and with a sweeping motion of her hand, said, “so pink sky.”

Ragnar nodded, grinning widely. “Pink sky,” he repeated. Ragnar felt his heart swell as he bent, pressing his lips to hers softly. She looped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. Grasping her thighs, he lifted her slight body and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Ragnar carried his treasure back inside the small home.


End file.
